The Fabulous Killjoys
by UndergroundValentine
Summary: Tommy wakes up in what appears to be the same setting he's always been in since beginning his music life with Adam. But he learns that things aren't quite what they seem, and he's hurled into a frighteningly strange life as Adam's personal pleasure slave.
1. A System Failure For The Masses

A little background about this particular fanfiction. It's a collab between myself and HieiTheFallen. The idea was a prompt from the ever fabulous Isolde_13 of Twitter. She's known as Isolde on LiveJournal and is the author of the slave!fic "Golden". Fantastic fiction, seriously. Fantastic woman and writer. I adore her.

Anyways, she gave this prompt to me with only one main thing in mind: parallel universe. One in which is our regular Adam and Tommy, and in the other, Tommy is Adam's personal _pleasure_ slave. Slavery is legal in this alternate universe, and everyone knows that Tommy is Adam's slave. Well... What happens if the Tommy's switch? ;)

I hope you guys enjoy. I have Tommy's POV, Hiei has alternate!Tommy's POV.

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Chapter One: A system failure for the masses (empty matter for the master plan)**

**Tommy's POV**

When he wakes up, he doesn't think anything of his surroundings. It's all the same as it was when he went to bed last night. Same bed he crashed on, same four walls of the room, same carpeted floor of the entire bus, same suitcase beneath his bunk that houses all of his clothes— stage and casual, even the same headphones hanging around his neck (they must've fallen out in his sleep). He's wearing the same flannel, blue plaid pajama bottoms and black, sleeveless t-shirt that he pulled on in an exhausted stupor the night before.

The dim, orange lighting of the morning is pouring into the window of the small bedroom and he groans softly, rubbing at his eyes and inhaling a gentle breath. He can smell himself and he smells like sweat, beer and the Old Spice shower gel he uses when he actually _does_ get around to taking a Goddamn shower. He sits up slowly, running fingers through the back of his hair, scratching at a patch of an itch that's been nagging him through his sleep. He pulls the headphones from around his neck and checks the battery of his iPod. Dead. Figures.

His toes squish into the carpet, followed by the heels of his feet and he stands from the edge of the bed, throwing his arms above his head and arching his back, relishing in the loud pops and shifts in his spine before sighing with a content smile on his face. The pajama pants hang lazily on his hips as he lets his arms fall. He crosses to the door of the room, pulling it open and taking a step out. He can hear voices coming from the end of the bus but doesn't make a note of them. It's just Monte and Longineu; maybe the dancers, too, but he doesn't look to see.

He has half a mind to raid the mini kitchen for coffee, but, instead, turns to his right and slips into the vacant bathroom. He needs to take a piss before he can do anything. He rubs the back of his neck, closing the door and taking a quick glance at his reflection in the mirror above the vanity and sink. Liner smudged around his eyes and across his cheek bones from when he'd wiped at the lids. It'd be a neat snapshot if it wasn't for the fact he, clearly, looks like he just rolled out of bed.

He looks away, readjusting the pajama pants and freeing himself, one hand curled around the base for stability, the other resting against the tiled wall behind the toilet itself. Maybe it's just for the fact that he's still tired, but it seems a little strange when he looks over at the vanity and sink and sees a couple of makeup products that he has no memory of every seeing before. Maybe Adam bought more and was just hiding it before? He's not sure, but he doesn't really bother to think about it once he finishes and washes his hands, leaving the bathroom and the confused thoughts about the darker shades of eye shadow and new flavors of lipstick.

He pushes open the bedroom door, crossing across the soft carpet and kneeling down by his bunk, pulling out his suitcase. He unzips the top, peeling it back before staring down, confused, into the contents of the case. He wonders if this is some kind of practical joke, because he doesn't remember owning any of the clothes here. He rocks back, resting on his shins more than his knees now as he keeps staring down into the suitcase.

He has half a mind to look through it— maybe his clothes are at the bottom of the pile? But he doesn't want to, because all he sees are chains and leather and the occasional article of fishnet. He bites down on his bottom lip, closing up the suitcase again and shoving it back under the bed. His mind is racing, trying to think of who could've put all those things into his case. Maybe Terrance and Sasha are being funny today. Or maybe Adam's being a bit of a prankster. He doesn't know.

He stands up and takes a few steps backwards and away from the bed, before turning away. Though, he almost walks right into someone as he does, and apologizes softly, seeing Taylor hovering beside him with a content look on his boyish-like face. He gnaws on his bottom lip before taking a glance back to the underside of the bed. He inhales slowly, looking back and deciding to take a chance.

"Hey, um, Taylor? What happened to all my clothes?" He asks, motioning to his suitcase. The brunette frowns for a moment, shaking his head like he doesn't understand.

"What are you talking about, Tommy? Your clothes are all in your suitcase, under your bed." Taylor says, smirking a little and shaking his head again. Tommy watches him cross over to the beds as Taylor kneels down to his own bunk, pulling out his own case. He feels his heart beating a little too hard when Taylor pulls out a black pair of leather booty shorts and a sleeveless, fishnet shirt. He's never seen Taylor own something like that…

"What is that?" Tommy asks, nodding to the… The _clothes_, if he can call them that, in Taylor's grasp. The dancer frowns again, his eyes shifting back and forth between Tommy's warily.

"My stage-clothes?" Taylor makes the statement more of a question and Tommy frowns down at the bundle in the dancer's hands. No way… No way in _hell_. Adam would never allow Taylor to dance in booty shorts and fishnet. Adam likes to have things be sexy for his shows, but not _slutty_.

"Those are your _stage clothes_?" Tommy hisses, staring wide-eyed at the brunette dancer. Taylor looks away, gnawing on his bottom lip as he closes up his suitcase and stands up. Tommy can't tear his eyes away from the boy as he starts to pass by, obviously uncomfortable.

"Yeah. They've always been Tommy. The fuck is your problem?" Taylor questions, before shaking his head and leaving the room. Tommy stares after him, trying to piece everything together and failing miserably at it. There was no way that leather and fishnet had become the stage attire for Glam Nation. Seriously, the only person with the least amount of clothing is the drummer, and for good reason!

Tommy swallows the lump in his throat before following out the room, closing the door behind him. There's no one else on the bus, which means he's got to hurry to get down into the venue for sound check. Then he's gotta change and— fuck, he's _not_ wearing leather and fishnet at the show. He likes those two styles, don't get him wrong, but… To be the _only _things he wears? Not happening.

He shuffles down the small path, through the living room area of the bus and off the steps. He tilts his head back and forth, checking the street as he crosses towards the back doors of the venue. People, of course, see him and scream, rushing over, but he dashes inside, slamming the door shut. His heart is thrashing. Normally, he'd love to stop and say hi, but for right now he really needs to find Adam and figure out what the fuck is going on here.

He hurries down the hallway, passing the sound people and Lane, their manager. Each of them give him a strange look but he doesn't try to worry about it. He needs to find Adam and fast, because he's really like to know what's with the sudden wardrobe change. Why wasn't he informed about it sooner? Sure, it would have taken some getting used to, but he could have done it if he'd just been told about it… Fuck, Adam, where are you?

Tommy turns a corner, almost running head-long into Monte. He sighs, catching his breath and clinging onto his side as a cramp suddenly pops up between his ribs. The older, married man frowns at him, staring at his neck for a moment before looking up as Tommy tries to speak between breaths, "Dude, where's Adam?"

For a second, Monte blinks, obviously confused and… What is that— appalled? Tommy swallows the lump of regret in his throat and he suddenly feels like he shouldn't have said that— or anything, really— in the first place. But Monte just shakes his head, clearing his throat and saying he doesn't know before walking off again. Tommy stays in the opening of the hallway, lingering and thinking. Why did Monte look appalled?

Tommy shakes his head for, what, the third time, today? He can't think about that right now, he _needs_ to talk to Adam. He takes off down the hallway, checking through dressing rooms that all appear to be empty before reaching the last one on the right. He shoves the door open and takes a step inside, but finds it to be empty. He groans in frustration, running his fingers through his hair and pulling out a couple of strands in the process. This is so ridiculous; why doesn't anyone know where Adam is at?

He exhales a heavy breath, dropping his hands and turning as the door clicks shut, and Adam stands with his back against it, smirk on his lips. Now, normally, when Tommy is in Adam's presence, he feels very comfortable, very at ease and relaxed. Adam's naturally a big, warm teddy bear kind of guy who could easily sweep you off your feet into an embrace. But that's normally… Right now? It's a little different.

The smirk on Adam's lips makes chills run up and down Tommy's spine, and not in the best way. He feels very small and weak with Adam in the room, like he's a lesser being. Tommy takes a step back, feeling his lips pulling down as Adam stalks closer, sashaying his hips and curling his fingers around Tommy's shoulders. The blond bites down on his bottom lip as Adam dips his head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck.

"Aren't you going to kneel for me, pretty kitty?" Adam whispers into Tommy's skin. Kneel? What the fuck is Adam talking about? The blond's face flushes red, his heart hammering in his delicate chest and he takes a step back, pulling himself from Adam's hands. The singer frowns, clearly hurt and maybe even a little pissed. But it's not until his ocean blue eyes darken at the sight of Tommy's neck that the blond, truly, feels fear.

"Where is your collar?" Adam hisses and Tommy shudders again, feeling even smaller, even weaker. He takes another fearful step back before shaking his head, frowning in confusion.

"What collar?" He decides to ignore the kneeling comment… For now. "Dude, I've been looking all over for you! What's with everyone looking at me funny? Why is Taylor wearing fucking leather booty shorts, and—" but he's cut off. He finds himself on his hands and knees on the floor, a throbbing against his right cheek. He lifts a shaky hand, touching it gingerly. The skin is burning; recently slapped. He glances up at Adam, who's a looming shadow and dripping with raging, lusty dominance.

"I ask the questions, slut. Now, where's your collar?" Tommy can feel his heart rising to his throat and he finds it difficult to breathe for a moment as Adam just stares down at him. He's shaking and all he wants to do is stand up and push Adam around, maybe try to knock some Goddamn sense into the singer. Seriously, who tells their best friend and bassist to fucking _kneel_ for them? What is it, a slave?

"Not going to answer? Do I need to teach you a lesson, pretty kitty?" Adam whispers, his voice dark and husky. Tommy watches, fearfully, as one hand works to undo the belt sitting on Adam's hips. It unclicks and comes undone, and Tommy swears he's dreaming right now. Or maybe suffering a nightmare, because this _cannot be happening…_

"Adam, what are you—" he begins to say, but Adam's free hand lashes out, grabbing him by his hair and pulling him onto his knees. He cries out, breathing hard and shaking as the singer reaches into the front of his pants, stroking what Tommy's sure to be a rude wake up call for his virgin throat… Oh, God, this isn't happening. Please say it's not.

"You're not to speak. You're not to make a sound, am I _clear_?" Adam pulls himself free and Tommy can't take his eyes off the flushed, red and angrily throbbing erection just inches from his face. His heart feels like it's stopped.

"Maybe this will remind you of your place, cunt…" Adam hisses, pulling Tommy forward by his hair.


	2. That Without You Is How I Disappear

**Chapter Two: That Without You Is How I Disappear  
Alternate Tommy's POV**

It wasn't much different than any other morning. He woke up with an all too familiar ache radiating between his thighs. Adam was never one to be gentle, ever, but he couldn't expect anything less (or more, it depended on how you looked at it). Pain was just something he had to get used to because he was nothing but what Adam wanted him to be…

Sun poured through the small window on the buses' exterior wall, across from the small bed Tommy was asleep on. It was strange not to wake up to Adam and his smirking grin. In fact, he wasn't even sure he was in the right room because he was positive that he had fallen asleep in Adam's room after being relentless banged. How had he gotten into this room? And, speaking of which, what the Hell time was it anyway? If it was too late… Adam was not going to be pleased!

Tommy jumped out of bed, completely forgetting about his aching backside. If Adam was upset, he was in for a world of misery and that was not something he fancied too much. Kneeling down next to the bed, everything seemed completely familiar. There was his suitcase, as well as several of the dancers', but when he opened his case, his leather and fishnet wasn't there. Normal skinny jeans, tees and hoodies filled the case with one set of clothing that stood out from the rest. "Oh my God, I'm going to be murdered…" Tommy hissed to himself, pulling out the tightest jeans he could find in the bundle of unfolded clothing.

Dressing himself, he made sure the jeans were extremely tight and the tank was as exposing as he could manage. The collar, at least, was completely exposed. The make-up was done just the way Adam liked it. If he was in trouble, he didn't want things to be any worse and not having his normal clothing wasn't exactly helping much… "Just stay calm, Tommy… Maybe he'll like the tight jeans today…" he muttered, trying to reassure himself, but the effort was extremely worthless.

Rushing out of the small room, Tommy passed Monte, who he avoided eye contact with. He was beneath the man, after all. What right did he have to make unwanted eye contact with the guitar player? "Tommy?" Monte asked, frowning a little and walking over to the blond. "Um… Adam's looking for you. Might wanna hurry. He's got something important to get done or something," he said and Tommy just nodded, keeping his eyes focused on the soft carpeting of the bus.

"You alright?" Monte asked, sounding genuinely concerned. This confused Tommy, immensely, actually. When had Monte ever given two shits about him? He was lowly. He was Adam's play thing. He was a slave… and Monte was far above him.

"Fine," the blond whispered, slithering towards the door of the bus. He slid the door open and back out of it, all the while, Monte eyeing him wearily. The guitarist's eyes seemed to hover around Tommy's neck, which was also odd because it wasn't unusual for Adam to 'leave his mark' on his neck, right around his collar.

Tommy rushed into the back door of the building they were scheduled to perform in later that night, all the while praying Adam was in a good mood today. Ha, that was funny. When was Adam ever in a _good_ mood? He was known for his lusty and horny moods but a good mood? Hardly ever. Tommy was so fucked and that was probably quite literal.

"Tommy! There you are!" Adam exclaimed, coming up behind the blond, who turned to face his master. Adam didn't look normal though. He looked a little frantic from rushing to get last minute details for the show ready, but he looked extremely happy and pleased overall. Adam never looked so… content with life. "Tommy, we need to sound check for your bass and we need to-" Adam stopped mid sentence, blinking a few times. A confused haze fell into his strangely bright blue eyes.

"W-what?" Tommy whispered, not looking the raven hair man in the eye. He wasn't entirely sure why Adam seemed so different and it… left him completely and utterly baffled.

Adam's fingers trailed along the collar for a few seconds. "Who won a bet against you to make you wear a collar like that?" he asked, a rich, beautiful laugh escaping his lightly freckled lips. Tommy was sure that he'd never heard anything more beautiful in his lifetime and yet, wasn't he supposed to fear Adam? He did fear Adam!

"I…" Tommy dared another look at Adam, and he found himself a bit transfixed by the man's beautiful, light filled eyes. "What do you mean?"

Adam frowned at that, but it wasn't the type of frown that always made Tommy cringe. "Tommy, what's up with you?" he asked, reaching around the blonde's neck to unclasp the collar. He pulled it away from the pale skin and a gasp rolled off his tongue. "You were more hammered than I thought last night, huh? Where did all these hickeys come from?" he asked, starring at the bruises and scars that stained the blonde's soft skin.

If he thought things couldn't become any more confusing, he was dead wrong. Tommy couldn't understand why Adam would be asking him such odd questions, why Adam would actually _take his collar off!_ Even in Adam's extremely lustful and dominating moments, he never took Tommy's collar off. He wasn't to be seen without his collar on.

"You?" Tommy whispered, his body tensing, expecting to be hit or, more than likely, something far worse and far more sexual.

"I… Think you were dreaming?" Adam said, chuckling. "We didn't do anything last night, I mean… Not after the show anyways." The singer's crystal blue eyes looked down at the collar still clenched in his hands and he shook his head. "Are you ganna tell me that I made you put this on too?" he asked, another chuckle escaping his perfect lips.

Heat rushed to the blonde's face and Adam just smiled, pressing a soft kiss into the blond locks. Only then did Tommy remember he never knelt, like he was taught. He was just so shocked and confused by everything, because it was so far from the norm, that he forgot and as Adam turned, tossing the collar into a nearby trashcan, Tommy got down on his knees, keeping his eyes locked on Adam's cheetah print boots. When did Adam ever get those? They weren't nearly dark enough for him…

"What on Earth are you doing?" Adam asked, his eyes a little wide when he saw Tommy kneeling before him.

"Only what I've been taught, master?" Tommy whispered quietly, never taking his eyes off of the cheetah print of Adam's deliciously beautiful boots.

A genuine look of concern passed over Adam's face, but Tommy couldn't see it for obvious reasons. "Tommy, get up off the floor, it's filthy. What in the name of Rah is going on, Glitterbaby? I don't understand why you're acting so strange…" Adam said, his voice soft and compassionate, completely unlike anything the bassist had heard from this man before.

He was the one acting strange? No… absolutely not. He was the only thing that was normal! He knew his place, but suddenly it seemed like everyone else had forgotten. Nobody looked down on him like he was something lesser than a human. No one muttered crude things about him as if he wasn't even there. Adam was actually treating him with _kindness_ instead of forcing him into a wall with his pants around his knees. "_I_ don't understand…" he whispers as Adam puts two gentle hands on his shoulders, easing him back onto his feet.

"Did you have some bad fish or something last night?" Adam asked, wrapping an arm loosely around Tommy's bruised hips. Adam wasn't gentle in anything he did. Kisses were always lip swelling. Sucking him off always left him winded and with aching tonsils. Sex? Well sex was the worst because it always left him with black and purple bruises, sometimes even welts running the course of his body. Adam was even proud of the marks he left on Tommy and was always pleased with himself when somebody saw, and more importantly, commented on the pretty marks.

At least, that's how his Adam was. This Adam surely couldn't be the Adam he belonged to. This Adam was caring and completely compassionate. His hands were gentle, his eyes were alluring and uplifting without being constantly filled with a sexual desire and his smile was warm, welcoming even. Absolutely nothing like the smirk that his master always wore. This Adam didn't make him feel nearly as undeserving as he actually was and he liked it… Probably too much because, of course, something like this wouldn't last, if it was even real at all.

So why then? Why was everything backwards? Tommy just couldn't understand.

"I don't think I ate any fish…" he whispered as Adam pulled him tightly (but not too tightly) against his larger frame.

"Come on, Glitterbaby, let's get you sitting down somewhere. I think you're a little delusional from something you ingested last night," the glam star muttered, pulling Tommy into a large dressing room filled with all of Adam's stage clothes. Tommy didn't recognize any of them. They weren't… whorish enough. They weren't dark enough. "Sit down," he whispered, pushing Tommy gently into a studio chair. "Just relax for a few minute, kay?" Adam smiled a flawless smile and turned away from Tommy.

The bassist watched the man in awe. There wasn't even the very casual use of his pet name "kitty" or "pretty kitty" used. Glitterbaby? When did Adam ever call him Glitterbaby? And when did Adam start wearing clothing that didn't reveal so much of himself…? He glanced down at the vanity, glancing over Adam's make-up and he was, again, extremely confused. The eye shadows were all a significantly brighter tone than what Adam usually wore. His eyeliner didn't seem like it would be nearly as thick and overall, the make-up was a lot less intimidating, yet extremely beautiful, he imagined.

"So… did you have a nightmare or something last night, Tommy?" Adam asked, pulling a few articles of clothing off of the rack that held many colorful costumes. "You seem kind of… excessively tired today."

Tommy swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe this was all just a charade Adam was putting on, to see if he would be obedient or if he needed more lessons… "No, master… I slept fine," he whispered. Adam didn't like complaining and complaints usually led to things he didn't even want to think about.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Adam asked, putting the clothing back on the rack and turning to look at him again. Worry was etched into Adam's face, which left Tommy a little star struck. He'd never seen Adam look so much like an actual human being before.

"Calling you what?" Tommy whispered and he desperately wanted to look away from the man standing before him, but he just couldn't take his eyes off of him.

Adam put a hand on his hip. "Master? Where the heck did that come from? I'm not your master, I'm your boss and your best friend. And honestly? You're really starting to scare the shit out of me because you're acting really fucking strange…" Adam sounded only concerned for Tommy's well being. "Maybe you should go lay down for a little while? Maybe you'll sleep off whatever type of bug you picked up. I'll have Monte do your sound check for you…"

Tommy nodded, afraid to refuse Adam on anything, and he simply stood up and started back towards the tour bus. His brain was working in overdrive to understand what was going on, but the gears simply wouldn't turn. Nothing, at all, made sense. _I'm not your master, I'm your best friend._ Adam had always been his master. Adam _owned _him for quite some time and used him for whatever he wanted to use him for. That's why he was labeled as a slave! A person who was beneath all other people accept for other slaves.

So what exactly was going on? Why did it only seem to spell disaster?


	3. You Don't Like Who You Are

**Chapter Three: You don't like who you are, you don't like where we'll go**

**Tommy's POV**

He gets dressed in the silence of the dressing room, his throat burning and aching from what Adam did to him. He can't stop the shakes that wrack his body— especially his hands— as he tries so hard to tie the laces of the thigh high boots he's being forced to wear. He's not wearing much and that's making him feel uncomfortable, unclean and very, very exposed.

There is no shirt— he's left without one. He's down to a pair of dark, leather booty shorts that, truly, leave nothing to the imagination with how tight they are, black, fishnet tights beneath them, and then these boots, which he's still having a hard time putting on. His fingers keep twitching and he keeps missing loops and knots and he feels like he's going to burst at the seams and just cry at any moment.

Fastened, tight, around his neck is a leather collar with a silver bell on the front. After Adam had… finished his business down Tommy's throat, he'd whipped this thing out and practically strangled Tommy with it just to get it on. Tommy sniffs, feeling the sting of tears welling in his eyes. He doesn't want to think that Adam's completely turned into some sexually deviant monster. But how can he think differently when he just had his best friend's cock shoved down his throat?

He whimpers, finally managing to get the laces tied. The boots are tight, curving just right around his thighs and calves, but he feels like a whore like this. He feels like he's about to swing himself around on a pole and grind into some drunk bastard's groin. He doesn't feel like himself, like he doesn't belong here. He swallows the lump in his throat, standing in front of the vanity and staring down at the makeup that's been left for him.

The silver and charcoal eye shadow aren't that much different from what he's worn before. But with this outfit, he really, really does not want to apply it. He doesn't want to do anything but curl into a ball and weep. What on Earth is happening here? Why is his whole world turning upside down on him? Why will no one treat him with respect? Why is Adam acting the way he is? He doesn't understand and he's afraid to ask questions…

More importantly, why didn't he stop Adam? Why didn't he find a way out of the situation he was put in? He thinks back on it now, and it would have been so _easy_ to just punch Adam in the balls and run away. A swift punch or a shove or _something_ just to get away… But he didn't. Why? Well, the obvious; he was scared. Adam has never acted like that before and suddenly he's this raging, sexual beast, bent on believing that he owns Tommy. What the hell is that all about?

Someone pounds on the door and Tommy jumps at the sound, shaking more and breathing hard, his eyes wide. Fuck, why is he so afraid? This has to just be some fucked up dream, right? He sighs softly, going to the door and pulling it open, seeing Monte standing there, looking enraged. He takes a step back, wondering if he should look away or stare defiantly. He chooses to stare, and that earns him a slap across the face, unfortunately on the same side that Adam had hit him before.

"Hurry up, punk. We're on in five minutes," Monte hisses at him before turning to leave back down the hall. Tommy feels the tears rolling down his face as he shuts the door, his shoulders trembling with sobs. Why is all of this happening? Can't he just fucking wake up from all of this? He goes to the vanity, wiping his face off and drying his tears before applying the liner and shadow, staining his lips with the red he was instructed to use. He feels filthy. And he still wants to set his throat on fire.

Dressed, dolled up and collar in place, Tommy slinks down the hallway towards the backstage doors of the stage. He sees people waiting in the wings, waiting to go on, but he doesn't see Adam. Not at first. He's still trying to find the top hat with feathers and the furry, purple robe, but something tells him that that's not what he's going to be seeing in the least. His heart pounds as he grabs his bass, which isn't red like his old one. It's black with blue glitter.

A hand latches onto his shoulder and he jumps, whipping around and ready to punch someone when he sees Adam, hovering over him like a monster. Adam's hair is thrown to one side, gelled to perfection and framing his face with shadows. His eyes are lined with liner, the shadow dark and sexy, though not in the same sense that it was before. He's wearing a deep v-neck, dark purple shirt that is so tight it looks painted onto his body, rips in the sleeves and on the sides, exposing skin. His pants are leather, also appearing painted, with glittery swirls and dots. His boots give him an addition three inches to his height, making Tommy feel even smaller.

Adam's hand crawls around to the back of his neck, pulling on the collar and cutting off his breath supply. Adam's lips are pressed to his ear, breathing hot and heavy yet demanding and cruel with every uttered word. "You will do as you're instructed tonight. Disobey me in the slightest, and you will suffer for it later, understood?"

Tommy can only nod once as Adam releases the collar, allowing him to breathe again. He falls back against the wall, gasping and trying to readjust the collar. It feels too tight. The shorts are too tight, the bass is too heavy. He feels like he's going to fall over at any second and pass out. But when the stage techies give them the okay, he's pushed forward out onto the stage. It's dark, the backdrop behind them showing the clouds and the moon, just before Voodoo. He's breathing hard and shaking as he takes his place, or… where he believes his place is.

The music starts and he begins to play, hearing Adam's cool voice from all around, but he knows the singer is at the top of the stairs behind him. He keeps his head down, playing and trying not to look out at the audience. Don't they see what he's wearing? Don't they understand that there's something very fucking _wrong_ here? Of course not. They're screaming in delight despite his whorish appearance. Despite the bruises on his right cheek.

He hears Adam's boots slamming down on the steps, coming closer. He feels Adam's hand sliding over his shoulder and he jumps again, but back into Adam's chest. Adam's hand curls down, over his stomach and towards his shorts. Instinctively, Tommy pushes into Adam's chest to get away from his hand, and he feels nails digging into his thigh behind his bass. Adam's singing, but when he stops to bite down on Tommy's ear, he knows that he's messed up already.

The song continues, as does most of the show, with touches, bites, kisses, gropes. Once, even, during Down The Rabbit Hole, Tommy was forced down to his knees, mocking oral sex. His throat felt tight and hot during that song. And now that it's only Sure Fire, he feels weak in the knees and exhausted. He wants to curl up into a ball and sleep. Or knock Adam around and figure out what the fuck is going on here. But he doesn't think the latter of the two will be very effective.

Somehow, though, he manages to survive to If I Had You, which sounds all wrong and erotic. It's still the same tune, the same beat and everything, but the whole night feels wrong, which makes the song feel wrong. The first half goes normally, there's nothing overtly sexual, but he knows that's all going to change when they get to the band intro, which comes after the first half and before the dancers. It's all fucked up.

As usual, Cam and Longineu do their introductions first, and then Tommy feels Adam's hand slither its way up into his hair, giving it a sharp pull. Tommy whines, feeling a pulse of fear and a wash of anger rushing over his body. He hates this. He's afraid of Adam and he hates being afraid. He feels weak. But what can he do?

"As you all know, this is Tommy…" Adam's voice is husky, harsh and seductive. Tommy bites down on his bottom lip, playing the single note bass line for this part of the song. Adam's fingers massaged his scalp before he pulled again. "And, if you can't tell, Tommy's been a bad boy…" Adam tugs his head to the left, exposing the bruised right cheek. He whines again, gnawing on his bottom lip to keep from making too much of a sound.

"Should I punish him tonight?" Adam asks the crowd, his eyes gleaming as he pulls on Tommy's hair again. Tommy goes deaf from the scream of the audience cheering yes, and he cries out accidentally. He slams his mouth shut and palms his hand over his lips, suddenly regretting ever opening his mouth. Adam glares down at him for a moment, before a devilish smirk stretches across his lips.

"Should I punish him _now_ for speaking out of line?" The audience screams again as Adam's hand tightens in Tommy's, pulling him towards the little platforms that they use, traditionally, for Fever. Tommy whimpers, wanting to beg Adam not to do this. Wanting to fight back and beat the singer with his bass. But he's so conflicted on what he's supposed to do that he keeps his mouth shut as Adam pulls his bass off from his shoulder, setting it aside.

Tommy's pushed down onto the platform on his knees, Adam's large hands pushing his head down so his left cheek is pressed to the platform, his head facing out to the audience. He realizes, from this position, that his ass is sticking straight up into the air, and he fears the worst. But Adam doesn't pull his shorts down, he doesn't do anything to suggest that he's going to be… God, he can't even think. But he feels Adam's palm slap— _hard_— against the left cheek of his ass and he winces, biting down on his lip.

How long he's spanked, he's not sure. But the audience is cheering, laughing and Tommy has half a mind to kick back and aim for Adam's dick. However much he wants to, he doesn't. He's spanked again before Adam's fingers curl around the back of his collar and he's choked into a position on his knees, leaning back with his back resting against the singer's chest. Adam's hand holds the collar tight, restricting his breathing to minimal air.

"Are you going to be a good boy, Tommy?" Adam asks into the mic, smirking. Tommy blinks, staring up at him before sneering slightly.

"Fuck. You," he hisses, low enough that the microphone doesn't pick it up, but loud enough that Adam hears it clearly. And even if Adam couldn't have heard him, his red-stained lips were pretty easy to read.

Adam's eyes narrow dangerously, and Tommy feels the collar tighten further around his neck. He chokes, reaching up and trying to curl his fingers into the collar, to loosen it and regain some breath. But Adam is a lot stronger than he is. He can't even grip the collar properly to have any hope of wedging his fingers in. Adam moves the microphone away from his lips and tilts his head, whispering into Tommy's ear.

"You're going to get it tonight," he says. It's not playful or friendly. It's cold, devious and terrifying. Tommy feels his heart thrash against his chest and he wonders, for a moment, if he's going to make it through the night or not.


	4. Use Your Voice

So, because Hiei and I have been busy with other fictions and school, we forgot was sense this was in... So... you get a chapter of first person... as opposed to third. Whooops. Fuck it. Enjoy. *heart*

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Chapter Four: Use Your Voice Every Single Time You Open Up Your Mouth  
Alternative Tommy's POV**

Nothing about this day was making sense. First, Adam was happy. He was cheery and _kind_. None of it fit together. He even threw away the collar that he always made me wear! Had he been hit on the head or something? That was surely the only explanation for what was happening here.

But… everyone would have had to been hit on the head then. It wasn't just Adam who was acting strange. Everyone was. They were all treating me like I was an actual person, like I belonged here. None of them seemed to realize that I was Adam's slave and that I was actually beneath all of them. Usually I got dirty looks from almost everyone, but today was totally upside down. Was this some sort of test?

"Tommy? You ready to go on?" Adam called to me from the doorway. I turned to face him, adrenaline forcing my heart to double its pace. He wasn't in his usual performing clothes. In fact, he was colorful and fun-looking with a twang of sexy mixed in. Absolutely nothing like what Adam would normally wear… His hair was covered in a rainbow of glitter. The glitter wasn't very strange but Adam usually kept it to darker colors, not… bright.

"I…" I bit my lip, looking back at the mirror to fix my make-up as best I could with my shaking hands. I saw Adam frown in the mirror and he walked over to me, taking the eyeliner from my hands so he could smudge it perfectly around my eyes for me. He applied my lipstick for me and I just let him do whatever he wanted with me because I was his servant. I had no voice to refuse him.

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" he asked kindly, pushing my hair over one side of my face. "We're on in ten. He didn't sound angry, which was shocking enough, but he even sounded like he was worried about me. "Are you sure you even want to go on tonight? You've been acting kind of strange all day. Maybe you should just go back to the bus and sleep?" he offered. I was the one acting strange? No, I was the only normal one here.

Or, maybe I was the one who didn't belong. Everyone else seemed to think I was strange. I was the only one who was different.

"N-no… I'm fine, Si- Adam…" The last time I called him "sir", he scolded me for it. "I just can't find my stage clothes…" I told him. It wasn't a lie. I couldn't find anything that resembled my performing 'outfit' anywhere in the room. Adam scanned the rack of clothes pushed up against the opposite wall and he walked over to it. He plucked a black, long sleeved shirt from it with a type of red fringe decorating it and tight, black leather jeans. I blinked. Those covered up way too much of me to be what Adam wanted me to wear, right?

"They're right here," he said, walking back over to me and handing me the two articles. "Are you sure you're feeling up to performing tonight? You really seem out of it today…" There it was again, that worry.

I took the clothing from him and nodded. "I'm fine. I can do the show," I whispered, wondering if he would turn into himself if I refused. If I actually said I didn't want to do the show, would he drop this act and lash out at me? Call me a bad little kitty and do something horrible to me in front of all of his fans? I couldn't risk that. Not again…

"Alright. I'll have Monte do your sound check so you can get dressed. We're on in six," he said and with that, he disappeared through the doorway. For a moment, I was rooted to the chair I sat in. My brain couldn't process anything about today. Adam was being nice to me, he was letting me dress decently, he sounded like he was _worried_ about me and now he was having Monte do things for me? Monte hated me. He would never go anything to help me…

_You can't be late, Thomas, so get dressed and get out there!_ I mentally hissed at myself. Despite how strange everything seemed, Adam was still my master and I could not afford to disobey him. Though, technically I wouldn't be disobeying anything… He offered for me not even to go on tonight.

I couldn't push my luck though, so I quickly pulled the clothing on. Checking myself once in the mirror to make sure I was decent, I decided that I was far too constricted in these clothes. However, I liked the privacy they gave me...

Adam was being introduced to the crowd and I realized I was late already, so I booked out to the stage and picked up the bass still sitting in its stand. It looked nothing like what I normally played, but a bass was a bass and I couldn't afford to be picky. I could only pray that Monte really had sound checked it to make sure it was in tune.

The concert was absolutely nothing like what Adam normally did. Even his dancers didn't wear very revealing clothing. Monte and Adam smiled. They never smirked, just smiled. Adam got pretty sexy, but he never got… naughty, I guess you could say. He was always laughing and talking with his fans like they were the greatest things in the world. Adam never thought that highly of anyone but himself.

What the _fuck_ was going on here?

When Adam came to _Fever_, I got nervous. Usually the things he did to me on stage were- well, not exactly things I would like to discuss. Living through them every night was bad already. Even as I was expecting some horrible, sexual act to be bestowed upon me by my master, it didn't happen. I was shocked when the only thing he did was kiss me. Sure, he fought for dominance over me. I was only too happy to give it to him. He left me breathless and I almost messed up with my bass playing. In all honesty, I was stunned by the fact that there was only a kiss. There was never only a kiss! There was always something more, something worse.

But why was I complaining? There was no spanking, there was no mock oral sex and no almost-getting-raped-on-stage. None of that. Adam was a fun and empowering spirit jumping around the stage like an idiot with a purpose. This was not my master. He was nothing close to being my master and when he waved to all of his fans and told them how much he loved them all, I almost dropped my bass. Thank God for guitar straps, because if I wasn't using one, I might have broken the instrument in my grasp.

Adam's encores were, more or less, the same as the rest of his performance. He was happy and he was jumping off the walls. I'd never seen him like this. I'd never seen him act so human before and it worked for him. If Adam was always like this, I believed a lot more people would find him attractive. Come on, even his fans looked like better people tonight! Generally they were all sex crazed and disgusting but tonight they all seemed like they were there for one reason; to share, love and appreciate music and the man bringing them wonderful music.

_Even Adam's singing sounded more natural and more meaningful._

Today he sounded like he was singing for a reason, not just to be sexy, famous and make lots of money. There was nothing but heart in the music he sang, like he was pouring ever ounce of his soul into his lyrics. When the songs that he wrote for Drake were played, I swore I could even see a couple of tears brimming in his eyes. Adam never cried. He never made Drake a big issue. In fact, he always complained about Drake and claimed he was an asshole.

I met Drake once and I realized why Drake left him. He was way too nice for Adam. The few times I met him, he was nothing but kind to me. He treated me like a person and that pissed Adam off. I was sure Drake wasn't too happy about his sexual relationship with me either… I mean, I couldn't blame him. They were dating and they were suppose to be in love. Adam shouldn't have been having sex with anyone but him.

But now Adam seemed like the memories of his ex-love hurt him, like a little piece of his heart was breaking as he sang those words. This Adam actually _had_ a heart and he was showing it! The tears never fell, or if they did, they looked more like sweat, but they were there! I could see them and I wondered if he really did miss Drake. I would have missed someone I loved like crazy, but he never treated Drake like he loved him… He never treated anybody with love. He only had love for himself.

Once the show was over, Adam disappeared backstage to scrape off his make-up and change out of his sweaty clothes. I wanted to go and do the same, but Adam always expected me after his shows. He said that… having me after every performance was… invigorating. It didn't make any sense, but if he wanted me after every single performance, I couldn't deny him.

"Where you going, man?" Monte stopped me in the hall that connected all of the dressing rooms. Adam's was the last and, no doubt, the biggest one. I bit my lip, looking at the guitarist for only a moment before looking down at my boots. Monte didn't like me looking at him, so I tried to avoid it as much as possible.

"Going to see Adam…" I mumbled. Didn't he know what went on in Adam's dressing room? Why would he stop me and ask me about it? To humiliate me? I actually wouldn't put that past him. That was exactly the type of thing Monte Pittman would do.

"Aren't you ganna change out of your stage stuff first?" he asked, raising his eyebrow at me.

"I'll do it after…" I muttered, turning back towards Adam's dressing room. Adam would strip me either way. Didn't matter what outfit I was in. Monte gave me a puzzled "okay?" but I wasn't really listening. I left him quickly because, as much as I didn't like being alone with Adam, I hated being alone with Monte even more. Adam was a sexual deviant but he wasn't… He didn't beat the shit out of me. Monte was kind of known for letting that happen on more than one occasion.

When I reached Adam's door, I curled my fingers against the door, biting my lip gently before knocking. Normally I didn't hesitate, but today was completely bizarre all together so… I was a little more nervous than I should have been. What if Adam was just pretending the entire day and now he was going to take out all of his locked up anger on me? But how could he possibly fake all of this? The new wardrobe, the band being nice, the fans being more humble, the lack of sex on stage, the _tears_ and the _heart_ he poured into his music. You couldn't fake something like that…

"Come in," he called from the other side of the door. I swallowed the lump in my throat before pushing the door open. I had done this a million times before, I didn't need to be so god damned, nervous about something that had been happening to my every single day for… Well, basically for a long time. I wasn't entirely sure how long I had been Adam's and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know that little detail.

Adam sat in front of his vanity with blue skinnies and a tank on. His was attempting to brush gel and glitter out of his hair, with little success, and most of his stage make-up had been wiped off. Another shock to my day. Adam hardly ever took make-up off because he wanted to hide his freckles. He didn't like them but they made him look… cute. Innocent, almost. Of course he wasn't innocent in the slightest and maybe that's why he covered them up most of the time.

"Hey Tommy, what's up?" he asked, giving up on his hair and setting the brush down next to a few tubes of eyeliner.

I blinked, staring at him as he looked up at me from he vanity chair. He looked a little confused and I was about ready to pull my hair out. "What do you mean?" I asked quietly. I was frustrated and I wanted to shout at him to release some of the built up anxiety of today. I was always waiting for this utopia to crash down around me and for all Hell to break loose. But I couldn't yell at Adam. I would be in sooo much trouble for yelling at him. "You always require my… services after our performances…." I whispered, feeling small and vulnerable.

It was Adam's turn to blink, clearly shocked that I would even suggest such a thing. "You're services? Sex? Tommy, when in the world have we ever had sex before?" he asked, standing from his chair. "You told me you were straight and I totally respect that and everything. Why would I ever ask you to come down here after a show to fuck me? That… I wouldn't do that," he said, sounding almost insulted, like I had questioned his moral character, or something.

"Si- Adam… You _always_ want me to come to you after a show. Always!" I cried. It's not like I wanted Adam to fuck me senseless, to the point I wouldn't be able to move in the morning. I didn't, but I couldn't handle any more of this confusion. Everything was upside down. Nothing made sense. Everything was _wrong_ and I simply couldn't take it anymore! I hated my life but I wanted things to be normal again so I at least knew where I stood!

Adam walked over to me and he put his hands lightly on each side of my face, drawing gentle circles into my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. "Tommy, I think you had a nightmare last night, or you ate something that's fucking with your mind because that's not true," he said as delicately as he could manage. "We're friends, we're buddies. We have fun together and we provide fan service _on stage_ but it's not real. We've never had sex before. You aren't even into guys."

I was speechless. We were friends? We were buddies? We didn't ever have sex? Surely I could not have been imagining everything he ever did to me. I didn't just make my entire world up! It was real and until today it was the only thing I knew!

As a moment of silence grew into discomfort, Adam frowned and pressed the lightest kiss I'd ever felt to my forehead. "Come on, Tommy. Let's get you back to the bus so you can sleep some… I'm kind of really starting to worry about you. Are you sure you're alright cause you… really don't seem like you are…"

I was silent as Adam put his arm around my shoulders and started to lead me out of the dressing room. I knew he was taking me back to the bus and I honestly thought he was going to put me to bed and let me sleep. Something Adam never did before I finished pleasing him…

"No… I'm not sure I'm alright…" I whispered.


End file.
